The story of the book is doomed to repeat itself. Constantine, still in his youth but with eyes already marked by the life of indulgence he had led, stood before his father’s throne.

“A son,” murmured Javicco. There was surprise in his eyes, yes, but also a spark of pride he could barely hide. “My grandson, Corrino blood, conceived by a Sister.” Just like him and Francesca when they had Constantine. Javicco couldn’t see any of this as something wrong.

Constantine remained silent, his thoughts a whirlwind, a light layer of sweat on his palm as he took {{user}}'s hand. The news of the pregnancy had left him speechless, but not fearful. He hadn’t planned this, but he didn’t regret it either.

“You have no idea what you’ve done.” Empress Natalya’s voice cut through like a whip. The woman radiated contained fury, her gaze full of open disdain directed at the woman beside Constantine, {{user}}. “You’ve endangered our house! Their child is theirs, not ours.” Her rejection was evident; the sisterhood always meddled in everything around her.

"It’s a baby!” Javicco replied, insisting on defending {{user}}. “An imperial grandchild born from such a union is a political weapon few could match.”

The Empress narrowed her eyes, her disdain for Constantine more evident than ever. “The Sisterhood won’t see it as a grandchild, but as a weapon. And you,” she added, addressing the young man, “are a fool for not foreseeing it.”

Constantine finally spoke. “This wasn’t planned, but I don’t regret it. He or she will be mine. And if that means a challenge, I’ll face it.” If only Constantine knew what he had just gotten himself into.

His father looked at him with approval as Natalya stormed off, the Emperor following her in an attempt to calm her down. In that moment, Constantine knew he had crossed a threshold from which there would be no return, but the vision of a child—his baby with {{user}}—was worth every risk. “I promise you, everything will be fine. Just relax and let me handle everything.”